Rad'emant Tineela: Part Three

The wind whisked by them, as the friends ran impetuously
through the forest. Their faces glowed in fervor. As they approached the plains,
the sky became overcast with dark ominous clouds, and thunder struck imminently.

"No! We're too late!" Rosie yelped.

Everyone at Rad'emant Tineela was cursed to stone,
cursed to face all the ages of the world. They stood helpless and unmoving.

"Job is finished, boss," Foogar the shadow Skeith
reported.

"You both did well... It's a shame there is no
other way to convince King Ronim to hand over those scrolls," Galcron gloomily
remarked.

"Look at it this way, boss... They make good
decorations for your home." Oothar gave a toothy grin.

"Right...We must be going," Galcron prompted.

"To the Haunted Woods!" The Skeiths clamored
in unison.

The wind swirled into a haze of vertigo that
covered the plains of Rad'emant Tineela. And in an instant all the cursed people
of Rad'emant Tineela were gone.

Thomas ears pricked up, as he heard the clamorous
voice. The overwhelming diffidence grew to faith and determination.

"Where did they go?" Davie shrieked.

"Get up! We're going to the haunted woods," Thomas
prodded, pulling his friends from the ground.

"What hope is there, Thomas? We can't hope to
beat this thing, this orb..." Damian despaired, burying his face between his
knees. "...The extent of its power is shrouded in ambiguity. Our resolve is
paltry, " he added piteously

"So we sit and rot and succumb to fear?" Thomas
scorned. "Now in this most urgent time Damian will your courage sway amidst
the harsh winds of evil?"

Damian believed Thomas to be right. How could
he, how could anyone cower in some hole in a situation like this. The Scorchio
gazed at Thomas eyes which now burned with an impregnable fire. His respect
for the Lupe grew at the sight of his impervious valor.

"Yes, we'll leave the mending of hurt pride for
another time, Damian," Thomas chuckled. "We have some packing and planning to
do. We'll gather at my house

****************

The friends gathered around the table and scrutinized
the map of the haunted woods, hoping to find strategic points from which to
contrive an advantage.

As William bustled about the kitchen, he packed
food and drew charts to balance the rations.

"Where exactly in these woods does this Galcron
dwell?" Davie inquired

"He will find us." Thomas recondite answered
produced a quandary in his friends minds.

But then what? Thomas wondered, 'Do I lead my
friends boldly into the convoluted realm of the Haunted Woods hoping to fight
a -what seems to be- vain battle?'

The discouraging thought led Thomas to an inevitable
dilemma. He was either to embark on a doomed odyssey, or be deterred by obscurity,
and remain in Jasmine Blithe.

Profuse uncertainty now dwelled in Thomas, marring
his plans to save the people of Meridell. His jovial face shifted virulently.

"Thomas...Are you okay?" Damian asked.

"Leave me alone!" Thomas wailed and flailed his
arms around, knocking over a plethora of books that were placed on the table.

The friends held Thomas to the ground, struggling
to hamper their friends' scabrous outburst.

The Lupe's frenzy came to a brisk halt. Thomas
mood shifted to exuberance with what he saw before him.

A book entitled "Account of J. Millard" lied
open on the floor.

"I'm okay...You can let go now," Thomas prompted.

He scurried over to his father's diary, sifting
through it anxiously, coming across the last entry.

10th day of Gathering

Tomorrow is the long awaited day, the day of
festivities and reckless reveling, the day we go to Rad'emant Tineela. More
to me then that, after the marvelous day, I will read this account of my deeds
to my son, my dear Thomas whom I know will follow in my footsteps.

Tears streamed down Thomas' face. He couldn't
believe his father broached the acknowledging of his future.

"I'm sensing another hissy fit," Damian warned,
half jokingly.

"Who's going to placate him this time? Won't
be me... I'm too good-looking to risk being punched in the face," Bill mused.

He continued to sift through the pages, until
he came upon a strange entry. The page had a large rune embedded in it; even
more curious was the entry.

5th day of Sleeping

I learned much during my stay at Lord Bishram
Bam-Roo's. His philosophical ideals about the world were both intriguing and
intricate.

He gave me this rune of teleportation in the
case that his help and council would be dire.

At the whisper of these words, the runes power
shall be unleashed.

Hum da Roo,

Isle da Roo,

Levme da Roo,

Hum da Bishram Bam-Roo.

"What is that, Thomas?" Davie queried, scrutinizing
the letter.

"The place for the answers, the place for help,"
Thomas replied enigmatically. "Everyone gather around! I know this is going
to sound weird, but... Read this aloud," Thomas goaded anxiously.

"What are you scheming, Millard?" Damian inquired
with a hint of accusation in his tone. "First you have your temper tamptrum,
now you beseech us to read this incoherent-"

"Just read it on 3." Thomas nodded to his friends
as a sign to trust him.

"1,2,3!"

Hum da Roo,

Isle da Roo,

Levme da Roo,

Hum-da Bishram Bam-roo.

"Now what? Davie asked.

"Maybe if we try agai-"

The words were caught in Thomas throat, as the
room become lost in a gloomy haze. The friends were borne aloft helplessly on
a recondite vertigo. Where were they headed? They could not tell. The feelings
of uncertainty that consumed them could not be omitted.

The dizzying haze faded into the air, and they
found themselves inside a large wooden room.

"We made it..." Thomas sighed in relief, and
a large grin from ear to ear crept on his face.

"Thomas! Where are we? What in the blazing Blumaroos
are we doing here?" Rosie yipped.

Thomas noticed the pensive look on Bishram's
face. He thought the Blumaroo meant to strike him. There was a long uneasy silence.
Bam-Roo's eyes unrelentingly scrutinized Thomas as if he searched for some eluding
answer. Finally the wizard broke away from his reverie.

"Young master... By any chance are you Astheleum's
squire?" Bishram pointed at the dragon emblem on the uniform.

"N-No." Thomas shook his head dumbly. "M-My father
g-gave this uniform to me, it was his."

"Everyone who came to the festival of Rad'emant
Tineela. A malicious orb did this. We tried to preclude its plans. We tried
to stop it... But we were too late," Thomas informed, his voice staggered from
the adjacent grief.

The Blumaroo wrapped the young Neopets in a warm
hug.

"What was it called?" Bishram asked, trying to
drown his anger.

"The only name we discerned from its lackeys
was Galcron," Thomas replied.

"That can't be true..." Bishram uttered.

The Blumaroo wizard came into another pause,
although this one was more intense. Bishram clutched his robes tightly and shook
his head frantically; his eyes glistened and now seemed sad and gloomy.

"Milord...are you okay?" Thomas inquired.

"It is fine... I am fine young one," Bishram
replied, cracking a smile, however, bewilderment still consumed his tone.

"We need your help, Lord Bishram! We need all
the help we can get if we have any hope to defeat this fiend and save our people,"
Bill pleaded with urgency.

"Roo Island is a needy little place that requires
much of my time and council..."

Their eyes slumped to the floor. They felt disappointed
that a powerful wizard such as Bishram would deny them aid at the most urgent
time. Before despair could once again consume them, the Blumaroo added.

"While I may not be able to aid you physically,"
Bishram's tone growing stern once more. "I will prepare you all for the trials
that wait."

"Prepare?" Damian prodded anxiously.

"While I may seem old, I still prove to be quite
limber and efficient in the art of staff fighting," Bishram boasted, offering
a warm chuckle. "Give it 2 weeks, and you'll all be lean mean staff fighting
machines."

Thomas and his friends, despite their unfortunate
plight, couldn't help but smile when they realized they were all going to be
trained in the art of combat.